


A question of Importance:

by LibertyKingdom



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyKingdom/pseuds/LibertyKingdom
Summary: Based on an ask from a Garthe Knight Anon:"You're bleeding like a stuck pig."
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	A question of Importance:

A forceful shiver rumbles over the curved eaves of Bonnie’s lips. Dread and horror intermingle, finding a safe harbor in her turquoise orbs as the despised man speaks. The chord of Garthe’s voice is calloused and sharp, it offers relatively little comfort. It is the complete opposite of Michael’s.

Barstow swallows hard, her gaze fliting downwards slowly, hesitantly. Never a big fan of blood, she feels her stomach twisting in miserable, unending knots. “I wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t lost your temper and shot me.” The worlds curl with a fiercely bitter edge from her sharp tongue. She’s rightfully angry. Sure, she brought this punishment down on her head by sabotaging his efforts to destroy the Foundation but unlike Garthe, she has fierce loyalties to the organization and it’s agents.

Her usually steady hand quivers, sinking downwards to inspect the gaping wound. Bonnie knows full well what she’ll find with the application of her porcelain fingertips. To her extreme distress, the pads of her fingers depart the bullet wound, skin inked in thick coats of scarlet. The torn and tattered fabric of her jumper is becoming slick, the stain slowly evolving from a quarter-sized to a lake. Luckily, the adrenaline pulsing through her veins drowns out the pain.

The room is swirling, spinning on-axis. Drawing in a shuddering breath, Barstow prods, “aren’t you ...” Turquoise orbs pressing closed, “aren’t you going to help me?” It strikes her a moment too late that this inquiry was fruitless, futile given the villainous figure. Her slender figure leans hard against the nearest solid surface which, at this time was the dreaded Goliath.

With a shuddered heavily staggered breath, she insists in a whisper, “Y... you need me.” Maybe, if she could get him to see her value, he’d be more inclined to not let her DIE.


End file.
